It's Over Now, the Music of the Night
by Lilygloves
Summary: A slightly different ending to Love Never Dies. I own none of the characters and give credit to the genius Andrew Lloyd Webber. For future reference, this goes along with the Australian production because I could watch it and get a better feel for it. Christine refers to Erik as the Phantom because his name was never revealed to her, I believe. First story ever!
1. What happens with Christine

"Gustave, come here and help me with my dress." Gustave came in from the doorway of the dressing room where he had been daydreaming. He helped lace the back of his mother's beautiful dress.

"You look lovely," he said when he was done with the corset.

"Thank you, Gustave," his mother smiled at him. She looked back at herself in the mirror and got lost in thought as she stared at her reflection. So much had happened to her in only a few short days since she and her family had arrived in America. She had good reason to feel this inner turmoil that she had been feeling ever since she found out who Mister Y truly was. At first what she had suspected seemed impossible, but then she had seen the dark silhouette of the man- could it really be a man?- standing in her room. At that point, all those memories of that night from ten years ago had rushed back, the memories and emotions she had chased away somewhere deep inside her brain.

"Christine? Christine, are you alright?" Christine's old friend Meg interrupted these memories as she entered the dressing room. "I'm sorry, I just came because I thought little Gustave might like a hot drink. It's so cold and dreary backstage here sometimes… Christine, are you alright?" Meg put the drink on the coffee table and hurried over to her friend.

"Oh, I'm fine," Christine gave a weak smile. "I was just thinking. It has been so strange to see all these old friends again… you and your mother, I mean. It brings back many memories."

Meg smiled. "I know, don't worry. I'm sure you'll do fine tonight. The aria is beautiful, and from what I can tell, you still have the same breathtaking voice you had ten years ago. You deserve this night." She turned to Gustave. "Now drink up, and let your mother rest. She needs to be ready for tonight." As Meg started to leave, she almost ran into Raul, who seemed nervous for some reason. "Goodnight, monsieur," said Meg as she curtsied and left the room.

"Christine, I need to ask you something…" Meg could hear Raul through the door, but decided against eavesdropping. She needed to prepare for the rest of the night.

* * *

Christine finished singing the aria and held the last note as long as she could. She could almost feel the magic coming back to her, the strange, nervous, excitement she used to feel standing on the stage at the Opera Populare. However, this did not feel exactly the same. She felt confused. Her insides had a bittersweet feeling she could not explain. Raul had asked her not to sing, and although she loved him, she had to sing. Or did she really love him? She realized in that moment, in the last note of the song, how forced her love for Raul had always been. They both knew after the honeymoon that they had rushed into marriage too early, but they didn't think it would have effects like this. She knew she had a duty to him as his wife, but she could not escape the feeling that he was not the one. Raul was safe, sympathetic, and emotional- at least he was when she first fell in love with him. But the Phantom... he was wild, seductive, and suave, like darkness over the surface of water. The note ended, and with it ended the uncertainty and doubt that had been building up inside her for ten years. The applause ended, but she barely heard it. She left the stage as swiftly and gracefully as possible and hurried to her dressing room, where she knew the Phantom would be waiting. She had already seen him in the wings, but she knew that he would want to speak to her in private. And besides, she knew Raul was on the other side of the stage and she could not bear to face him.

* * *

"Oh Christine, my Christine, what a triumph that was," said the Phantom as soon as she reached the dressing room. They both looked deeply into the other's eyes. They both felt the same electricity they had felt ten years ago. Ten years ago the Phantom would not have dared to touch Christine this way, but the magnetism between them was so strong he did not hold back and he kissed her passionately. And she kissed him back. They both knew that there had been something in that kiss, something they had not felt since the night before Christine's wedding. That one kiss meant more to Christine than the thousand of kisses she had gotten from Raul during their marriage. As they pulled apart, something on the table caught her eye. She examined it closely and found it was a note from Raul. She could tell his hand was shaking as he wrote that he had to leave her, that it was for the best. She could not disagree, but it still left a hollow feeling in her heart. However, the Phantom distracted her as he wrapped his arms around her from behind and glanced beyond her cheek to read the note. All of a sudden, she felt a strange surge inside. The room seemed strange and she could not see right. Her head felt light and her legs buckled a bit as she tried to see clearly.

"Christine! Christine, what's wrong?" cried the Phantom. Luckily, he already had his arms around her so he could catch her as she slumped over. She could barely make out his fuzzy image. And then everything went black.


	2. What happens with Erik

Erik stared nervously at his beautiful Christine, lying in the bed. She had been sleeping in a little room backstage ever since she collapsed. Sometimes it seemed as if she was curling up in a ball to save heat, other times it seemed as if she needed ice all around her to keep her cool. She drifted in and out of consciousness, but she was rarely conscious enough to know where she was or even who she was. He rubbed his hands together as his mind drifted back to the day before when she had first passed out and shown signs of illness. He tried to rack his brain to figure out what could have caused this horrid sickness to overtake her body, but he had little idea as to what she had done that could have brought on the illness.

"Gustave?" He heard a weak voice and immediately turned all his attention to Christine.

"He's sleeping in the other room now," he told her. "Don't worry; I'm here, nothing can harm you. My words will warm and calm you. But Christine, this is very important. Do you know what could have made you sick?"

"I know. I found this in Meg's dressing room. It is silent as a tomb in there, monsieur. It seems she has disappeared. Or run away." Madame Giry had entered silently and her face was grave. She had been there almost as constantly as Erik in hopes that she could do something, anything to cure Christine. They had tried to call for a doctor to come and stay with her, but he offered little help. He had said that unless they could figure out what caused the sickness, there was not much he could do. Madame Giry held out a note to Erik. As he read it, a look of shock and anger fell across his face.

"MEG!" he cried in a furious voice. "Why would she do this? How could she do this? Why would she want to hurt Christine?"

"I do not know, monsieur." Said Madame Giry. "It seems from the note that she intended to hurt Gustave. I know he is your son. I know you plan on leaving everything to him. To him, and not us. She feels as though she deserves it, not him. Don't you remember what she went through for you?"

Erik fell silent as he remembered how unfairly he had treated Meg. He had almost gone mad after he said goodbye to Christine all those years ago and he could not deny his obsession with her and his ignorance of Meg.

"But why she would harm Christine and not Gustave," said Madame Giry, "I do not know. She loved Christine like a sister."

"I remember now!" Christine tried to sit up as best she could. "She brought a tea the night I sang the aria. She said it was for Gustave, but I needed something warm to help my throat before I sang. So I drank it…"

"What could it be?" Erik asked. "Where could she get such strong poison?"

Madame Giry's face went white. "From you," she said.

Erik looked at her. "How could that be possible? I have not even touched any sort of poison for years."  
"Yes, you don't have it anymore," said Madame Giry, "But Meg kept it. You asked her to get rid of so many things before we smuggled you out of France, but there was one trunk… she could not let go of it. There was so much magic and mystery in it, full of sheet music, curious jewelry, and I know she found a vial of poison it that trunk. I told her to get rid of it, but I don't even know if she heard me when I told her this. She almost seemed mesmerized by the vial. I told her to get rid of it…"

Erik seemed to have lost all color in his face. "That evil witch! That scoundrel! How dare she? How could she? Oh Christine, Christine!" He kneeled by her bed and buried his head in the blankets. "There is a cure for it, but it was in that trunk. Meg has it, and she is long gone by now. I do not know how to make it again." He started to kiss her hand and hold it at the same time, almost as if he was trying to keep her alive with his life somehow.

"What does this mean?" asked Christine.

"It means, I'm afraid," said Madame Giry, "that there is nothing we can do. We can only hope and pray."

Erik started to sob. He had never felt this pain, this loss. Even when Christine had chosen to go with Raul all those years ago, He had known she was safe and that Raul could give her a life he never could- a better life. It had hurt him deeply and he never imagined that something could hurt worse than that. But this moment hurt more than any of the pains and sufferings he had experienced in his lifetime. "Oh Christine, my Christine…" She feebly tried to stroke his head as he wept, but they could not be strong for each other. Tears fells from her eyes as Erik shook with anger, rage, and sorrow.

The days dragged on, each one feeling like a thousand years. Christine did not get any better; in fact her decline in health became more obvious day by day. Erik and Madame Giry insisted that she did not move around much or even talk in order to save her energy, which was failing fast. Most of the time Erik just sat in a large armchair by her side- sometimes trying to amuse Gustave through this difficult time, sometimes just staring off into the distance.

"I have never felt so….helpless," he thought. "Even in the dark pit of the catacombs, I never felt so helpless like this. During those times, I would just kill to get whatever I wanted. Even when Christine left me and chose Raul, I knew from the kiss and her last look back at me that she still loved me. And that was all I needed to know. But I never felt helpless." He started to grip the armrests of the chair harder and harder. "And now there is nothing I can do," he said to himself out loud. Erik pondered what he considered his "past life", his life in the catacombs under the opera house. During his past life, he never was in need. He played the opera house like a puppeteer, like he was the conductor and all the cast had to play the notes he directed. At the time he had been proud of his power and control, but now he knew it meant nothing. What good could that power do him now? His beloved was dying, and although he could not blame himself, it was a result of his dark past. Meg would never have gotten hold of such powerful poison if he had not acquired it in the first place. He never really felt the repercussions of his murderous ways in his past life, but now the lives of those who had been taken by his hand were back to avenge themselves. His past was now killing the love of his life. Erik looked back at Christine. He wished she could at least look peaceful, but he knew she felt even more discomforted and ill than she appeared. "There is absolutely nothing I can do," he thought. "I am weak. I am powerless. I am completely helpless." And for the first time in his life, he was truly, completely helpless and hopeless.

"Mother? Mother?" Gustave's tiny voice begged Christine to wake up. "Mother, I got you some flowers." Christine did not wake; she simply twisted around in a feverish state in her bed, her face just slightly contorted with inner pain and flushed with heat. Gustave's face dropped. He had almost hoped his mother would wake at the sound of his voice. She had not been fully conscious for two days, two slow, bleak days. Erik woke at the sound of Gustave's voicefrom his chair by her bedside. He moved toward his beloved boy and stroked Gustave's hair.

"Why don't you rest?" Erik suggested gently. The boy put the bouquet of flowers on his mother's nightstand and tried to lie down comfortably on the couch. He knew that even in her state, Christine would still chide Gustave for not getting enough sleep. Although to be fair, neither Gustave, Erik, nor Madame Giry had really slept the past fortnight. A fortnight. That is how long it had been since Christine had first fallen ill, and she was fading fast. The doctor had visited her again the day before. "Not much we can do," he had said. "I'm afraid she doesn't have much longer." Madame Giry bowed her head when she heard this news, while Gustave burst into tears. Erik just stared at his beautiful Christine. He knew she would not want him to be angry- she would want him to take care of Gustave- but he could not help the rage inside him, rage at Meg and at himself. He had taken everything from Meg and had given her nothing; she was merely returning the favor. Meg had taken everything from him in one stroke- Christine's gentle and loving personality, her beautiful face, and her voice. Erik knew Meg intended to hurt Gustave out of a jealous rage. She never would have dreamed of hurting Christine. But when Christine accidentally drank the poison intended for her son, Meg took everything from her in one stroke. Everything, and there was nothing to be done. Christine would soon be gone, including her voice. "Her voice!" Erik's thoughts wailed. "Her beautiful voice! Her prized possession, the object of beauty, my one treasure. She can't sing… she can't even talk…" His body shook as he wept, left with that one thought: "I will never hear my Angel of Music sing again."

"Gustave?" Christine's weak voice broke Erik from his sobs, and he tried to wipe his face, to appear strong for her.

"I'm here, Mother." Gustave hurried to her side and held her hand.

"I am fading fast, Gustave, I can feel it. I want you to know that you mean more to me than anything and I love you with all my heart. I am sorry Raul cannot be here for you, but you must know… he is not your father. He is." Christine lifted a quivering finger and pointed at Erik. Gustave gasped and gazed at Erik in wonder, looking at him as if he had always known this and yet did not know who Erik was. Erik rushed to Christine and cradled her head in his arms. The light in her eyes was dimmer than any other day she was ill. She said she could feel it, and Erik could feel it too. She was close to death.

Erik tried to calm her. "Shh, don't speak. You must save your voice. Save your strength."

Christine mustered all the strength that was left in her. "Angel of music…" she sang, but she had to stop for lack of energy.

"No!" cried Erik. "Christine!"

"I love you…" Christine sang in the same way she had sung it to Raul ten years ago, but Erik could sense there was more passion in her voice, even in her near death state, than there had been when she first sang it to Raul. Her head fell back in his arms and the life left her.

"Mother! Mother!" Gustave screamed. He tried to shake her, to get her to move, to show any sign that she was still alive. But it was too late. Erik knew. He wept. He wailed. And he cried out in the most wretched voice ever heard, "It's over now, the music of the night!"


End file.
